


MC Hammer Can't Touch This

by CiderSky



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: 5+1, And a 2-sentence epilogue, Gen, Humor, Mjolnir/Clint, No Angst, Stupid Title is Stupid, Things get weird, Yes you read that right, crack!fic, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:17:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiderSky/pseuds/CiderSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mjolnir has it out for him.</p><p>He knows it sounds ridiculous but it’s the only proper explanation. </p><p>Or, 5-times Mjolnir almost took Clint out and the 1-time it all made sense (kind of).</p>
            </blockquote>





	MC Hammer Can't Touch This

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a kink!meme prompt and I'm not really sure this is what they wanted but hey, let's get weird.

I:  **In Which Clint Realizes Mjolnir is Terrifying**

The first time it happens Clint figures it’s all just a huge, pants wetting coincidence.

He’s a near block away from the others, picking his way through the rubble of New York City, when he hears the sound of bursting glass and exploding brick. He turns and falls into a defensive crouch, an arrow nocked, waiting for whatever strange creature is punching holes in buildings.

There’s no threat in sight but the sound continues; Clint finds himself cocking his head to the side as a high-pitched whistle joins in the strange cacophony and it all seems vaguely familiar and _fuck –_

It’s only years of training and his incredible reflexes that has him throwing his torso backwards, his back arched and his outstretched arm catching his weight on four fingers as Thor’s hammer skims past his face.

A mere second later it’s coursing through the building behind him, all as if it were _rice paper_.

It was his quickest most brief brush with death to date; the damn thing had nearly taken his head off and it had all happened in, what, a half a millisecond? 

Clint quickly collects himself, brushing off dust and willing his stomach to unknot itself as he tries to _not_ think about how he almost just bit it because Thor flicked his wrist. 

He doesn’t tell the others about his near decapitation when he joins them a few moments later.

He does, however, stay clear of the hammer.

 

II. **In Which We Learn Why Thor is No Longer Allowed to Watch 3D Movies**

Clint is standing in Stark’s kitchen, eyes on the pot of gumbo he’s seasoning, very much so minding his own business when it happens again.

He’s nearly forgotten about his near decapitation and doesn’t even bat an eye at the hammer sitting on the kitchen counter because really, what danger could the hammer do just sitting there. 

Besides, it’s hard to worry about death-by-hammer with the scene in front of him.

The others – Steve, Thor, Tony, and Bruce – are sitting in front of the ridiculously large 3D-TV, sprawled out on the over-sized couch, watching Lord of the Rings and fighting over a bowl of popcorn like children. 

The large, goggle-like 3D-glasses make it extra hard to take any of them very seriously, most notably Tony who has seemingly bedazzled his, a shiny ‘S’ winking at him whenever the man moves.

Clint adjusts his own pair sat on top of his head but has he has no real intention of using them. 3D movies make him unusually dizzy and these particular glasses cut out your peripheral; he isn’t fond of the feeling.

“What has happened to these small, hairy-footed folk?” Thor’s voice booms and Clint can feel it in the damn floor. The man had no understanding of the meaning of ‘indoor voice.’

“They’re hobbits,” Tony corrects as Natasha slinks over. He hands her a spoon and watches with a small smile as she takes a sip and gives a low, throaty hum of approval, “and they’re a fictional race. Never existed. And is _that_ the sound of a foodgasm?”

“Foodgasm?” Steve asks hesitantly because 80% of the time it’s something he really could go without knowing.

“That smell. That feeling. The way the gumbo glistens in the light. It’s all culminating into a food orgasm –“

“Ookay.” Steve stops him before he can go further. Tony’s notorious for being descriptive. Very, very descriptive. “I’m sorry I asked."

“No you’re not. Legolas!” Clint hates that he turns his head, understanding that Tony is addressing him, and damn, Tony looks far too pleased, “I hope you brought enough foodgasms to share with the other kids.”

“I TOO SHOULD PARTAKE IN THIS FOODGASM!” Clint fights the urge to face-palm because truly, he’s heard the word foodgasm far too many times for one day. And hell, the things Thor says are so ridiculous he’s considering creating a blog dedicated to it, maybe even a book.

Tony has vowed financial backing.

“Sure.” Is all he says because it’s all he wants to say. Anything more and he’s certain he’ll somehow incite more talk of foodgasms and no one needs that. 

Clint, with the help of Natasha, gathers a few bowls and fills them with gumbo, half wondering when he had become the physical version of JARVIS.

He’s just barely crossing the threshold between the kitchen and the media room when Thor happens.

“ELDTRÖLL!” Clint only has a second to register the near bursting of his ear drums as Thor all but shouts nonsense at the top of his lungs and another second after that to realize that he should fucking duck, like, right now.

Mjolnir flips easily off of the counter with unnatural speed and Clint ducks, as per his instincts suggested.

Mjolnir finds its place in the now standing God’s grasp and Clint is once again trying not to pee his fucking pants _a-fucking-gain_.

No one seems to notice him as everyone is staring at Thor who is explaining the similarities between the troll in the movie and the Eldtröll of Asgard, all whilst undoubtedly nursing very unhappy ear canals.

Clint is quick to straighten himself out and even quicker to regain his damn dignity.

He takes a moment to at least pride himself in the fact that he hadn’t dropped a single drop of gumbo.

 

III: **In Which Mjolnir Is Really, Quite Rude (And Thirsts for His Blood)**

Mjolnir has it out for him.

He knows it sounds ridiculous but it’s the only proper explanation.

Though it’s Thor who wields it, he’s certain it’s all the hammer. Unless of course the big guy is harboring some very serious rage issues towards him.

So, when it happens a third time Clint finds himself digging deep into his memories, trying to figure out what the hell he had done to make Mjolnir thirst for his blood.

If a hammer could thirst for blood; but from the stories Thor tells, it all seems incredibly possible.

If Gods could birth eight-legged horse-beasts and rainbow bridges connected two worlds and cosmic cows licked stones until they became Gods, then surely, a hammer could seek a vendetta against a mere Midgardian.

Clint searches his memory and finds one possibility; really, it has to be it because it’s the _only_ one-on-one interaction he’s had with the thing and doesn’t that sound completely sane?

Clint had been minding his own (at the fresh hour of 3am), walking (stumbling drunkenly) through the darkened Stark Tower when his foot had met something hard and painfully unyielding.

He hadn’t seen it, hadn’t been expecting it and really, he was usually far more aware then this but what in the hell had Mjolnir been doing in the middle of the damn hallway?

He had hissed and cursed at it, had _kicked_ it in a fit of immaturity and _damnit_ , it was hard _not_ to hate the thing that broke your big toe.

Had Thor just waltzed into the kitchen and decided that yes, here is a most good place to rest a weapon of Asgard? Probably. Clint had learned to stop questioning anything Thor did or said.

Yes. That had to be it. He had deeply offended the hammer with his kicking and swearing and (extremely empty) threats to throw it into the river.

It’s really the only answer, the only explanation Clint can muster for what had happened the third time and damnit,

There’s still a hole in his damn bathroom and he’s still taking his damn showers at SHIELD, far away from Stark Tower.

No, Clint really doesn’t like thinking about the third time.

 

**An Interlude**

There’s a solid five weeks where nothing happens and it’s wonderful.

Clint almost forgets about Mjolnir and has stopped dropping into a defensive stance when anything remotely ‘’explosion like’ occurs.

 

IV:  **In Which Mjolnir is Totally the Reason Clint Misses. Like, Seriously.**

He’s got the shot lined up and he takes a moment to feel impressed with himself. It’s not an easy shot, not the way he’s taking it, but it’s the only way the angle is going to work.

He’s hanging upside down from the rafters of the warehouse they had successfully infiltrated, arrow knocked and ready to fly but then his comm comes to life –

“Thor just got knocked out of the sky, so yeah, no one try to touch the thing on the roof …”

The roof …

Clint’s ‘Mjolnir-senses’ come to life and he innately knows that crashing sound is Mjolnir falling from the sky, through the roof and into the rafters.

It misses him by a foot, whizzing by on the right side … right through the bar he was currently dangling off.

Clint twists his body, compensating for the sudden loss of support, and feels the snap of his bowstring against his arm.

For the first time in a long time he has no idea where the arrow is going to land.

He curls into a tight ball, using the momentum to spin himself into a controlled flip, and lands on the balls of his feet.

He doesn’t have time to think about his lost perch and jumps right back into the thick of it, his aim true and his mind on the battlefield.

He almost forgets about his rogue shot and he would have if it weren’t for Natasha.

She spots the arrow fixed steadily in the wall and raises a brow.

“Don’t look at me like that, Nat, it was Mjolnir’s fault.”

There’s the smallest upturning of her lip and he knows that its Natasha’s equivalent of laughing in his face.

He pulls the arrow from the wall and points it at the hammer.

“Mjolnir’s trying to kill me.” Natasha _smiles_ and it doesn’t help that he sounds slightly hysterical.

“I won’t tell anyone, Clint.” She smiles wryly and gives his bicep a comforting squeeze.

“It is.” Clint mutters sounding like a petulant child.

God, how he hates that hammer.

 

V: **In Which the Hawk Gets Winged**

The fifth time it happens Mjolnir wings him.

Though, not really, because it clips the top of his quiver making the thing explode into a hundred little pieces and though it doesn’t _actually_ touch him, the force whips him to the ground.

The others don’t know this, though. They think he’s hit; think he’s just been knocked on his ass by the world’s only truly immovable object and that he’s very dead.

_“Hawkeye, report!”_

_“Stark, get up there –“_

He’s not dead.

He’s stunned and a little sore – _whiplash is a bitch -_ but he’s not dead. If anything he’s a little embarrassed because they’re panicking over the comm. and all he can do is lay there, heart hammering and ears ringing because hell, the sound of his quiver exploding had been incredibly _loud._

“’M fine.” He manages into his comm. as he tries to sit up.

“Don’t move, Katniss.” Tony touches down in front of him, his Iron Man faceplate flipping upwards to reveal the man beneath, “You hurt?”

Sure. Maybe his pride _._ “No.”

“No, just – just got winged.” He says casually, trying his best to _not_ sound like he had nearly been smashed to death (for the fifth fucking time) by that damn hammer.

At least Natasha’s not here, he thinks as he breaths a small sigh of relief. If she had seen that … well, he’s always wondered what a physical altercation between her and the Asgardian would look like.

“Don’t tell Tasha.” He groans as Tony helps him up.

“What? That her boyfriend almost took a face full of Mjolnir and scared the hell out of everyone?”

“I told you. I’m fine.” Clint fights the urge to wince as little pieces of metal and plastic crunch under his feet. “Don’t you have a battle to get back to?”

“Brother,” He hears, far too loud above his head. ‘Indoor voice’ he wants to say but doesn’t because he’s a little dizzy, “I did not see you! Are you injured?”

Thor’s brow is knit into a tight frown, worry written all over his features

“No. No harm done big guy.”

“Really?” Tony says and Clint would be damned if he didn’t sound a little pissed off.

“Because it looks like half your quiver, a quiver I spent hours upgrading and detailing and adding subtle purple highlights to, with a tiny, tiny paintbrush, like really tiny, is missing –“

“It’s fine.”

Clint rolls his eyes. Leave it to Tony to make this about him –

“ - not only that, Hawkeye, but a step to the right and it wouldn’t be arrows we’d be scraping off the ground, it’d be you –“

“But it didn’t, I’m fine –“

“No, the man of Iron speaks the truth. I could have caused you grave injury and there would be no greater dishonor than harming a brother in arms.”

“Thor, it’s –“ Clint starts but Thor isn’t having any of it and before he can stop the God he’s freaking _kneeling_. Natasha would die if she saw this.

Tony must be thinking the same thing because he’s snapping a picture with a magically produced StarkPhone.

“Please. I bid you accept my apologies, Eye of the Hawk.” Clint looks at Tony and then back at Thor before giving the God an awkward pat on the shoulder.

“Apology accepted.”

“This is GOOD! Let us make merry in celebration!” Tony says something snarky or sexual, maybe both, before moving to help Clint remove the quiver from his back because, yeah, he’s a little sore and he must be showing it.

“Seriously. A really, almost comically small paintbrush.”

“My heart is breaking for you, Stark.”

 

+1:  **In Which Everything is Explained and Clint Should Be Flattered, Apparently, But Totally Isn’t**

“In love?” Clint asks because no.

Just no.

Thor had not just told him that Mjolnir is in love with him.

No.

“Verily so, my friend.” No, Clint thinks, but Thor is looking at him and he looks damn serious. He’s crossing his arms. He looks thoughtful. He’s fucking serious.

“It is not unusual for a great weapon of Asgard to love one who isn’t the wielder.” As if _that_ was the part of this whole situation that Clint found confusing; as if he had been thinking, ‘Me? How could I have won Mjolnir, your hammer’s, affection when he … she … it could have you!’

"And Mjolnir has chosen a most worthy warrior. I am pleased."

“But. Mjolnir –“ Clint glances over at the hammer suddenly feeling paranoid. “Can it hear me?”

Thor lets out a booming laugh and Clint feels stupid. Oh, okay, so a hammer could love but not hear. Okay. Got it.

“A jest. I like it!” Thor starts to explain it but really it all sounds like a recount of an acid trip so Clint holds up a hand and shamelessly interrupts.

“Can you make it stop? I kind of liked living.”

“I agree that it is most unsafe. Yes, I will speak with Mjolnir.”

What the fucking what? Clint has so many questions, but there is no chance he’s asking any of them because he’s pretty sure the knowledge will make his face melt off.

“Worry not! Mjolnir is many things, but not spiteful.” Apparently that’s supposed to be reassuring. Thor claps him on the shoulder, apparently going off to have a … chat … with his weapon … about love and Clint is left standing there wondering if he isn’t really just losing his mind.

Then, much to his incredible humiliation, he wonders what his bow thinks of him.

Yes. He is most certainly losing his mind.

 

**The Shortest Epilogue in History**

He never has a near run-in with Mjolnir again …

… but Tony does and Clint makes sure to be present when Thor breaks the news.


End file.
